I Zombie I [Omnibus Edition]

by Jack Wallen

  Chapter 2

  New York City, United Nations Building

  December 17, 2015

  “You fucking bitch! Why are you doing this? Help! Somebody please help me!”

  We couldn’t keep her quiet. The second she woke from sedation the incessant yelling began. I knew everyone in the lab wanted me to put a bullet through her head and yank the fetus from her womb. We certainly had the technology. But that woman and fetus were my soul purpose; I would do nothing to endanger their lives.

  “Do you think Bethany knows she’s been our experiment this whole time?” Markus’s thick Russian accent pounded the room with heavy consonants and too much spit.

  Poor, dear, unintelligent Markus Dimitri. The man worked by my side not because of his mind, but because he had yet to meet a man he couldn’t snap in half. The Russian made for a great bodyguard. Conversationalist? Nyet.

  “Markus, that woman is completely unaware of the truth. Had she known what was happening, she wouldn’t be alive.” I smiled up at the man from my desk. The quizzical look he returned hinted at an ignorance so deep, I feared he would never comprehend just how profoundly the world had changed. I hadn’t the time or patience to explain everything again.

  “I am going to have a chat with our guest. Will you please remain in here and watch over us? Make sure nothing happens. Should something go wrong, you know what to do, right?”

  Markus nodded his head like the good pit bull of a man I trained him to be. Yes, the man was good to have around.

  This would only be the second time I had attempted to communicate with Bethany. The first time the girl had been in total hysteria. She wanted to know all of the same things: Why she was here? Why she was tied up? Where were her friends?

  All in good time, my pet. That was all the answer I could get in before the hysterics had her nearly ripping the flesh from her wrists and ankles trying to break free from her bonds.

  I only hoped the conversation turned out differently this time around.

  “What are you doing to me? Let me go!” Bethany’s voice was cracking as if it were under the weight of possession.

  “You are here because you attacked us.” A calming, soothing tone came from my mouth. “And you are tied up to prevent you from hurting yourself – or your baby.” A smile slid across my lips at the calming reaction to the word baby. The intensity instantly washed away from the girl as her hands tried desperately to reach out and caress her belly. So predictable, we humans. It was almost shameless how easily the human mind and conscience were manipulated.

  “You can’t do this to me. Please, let me go and I’ll disappear. I won’t tell anyone what’s going on.”

  Bethany’s voice was starting to break. Tears would follow shortly. I wasn’t certain I wanted to bear witness to the young woman crying. Should even a flash of empathy cross my face, she would spot it and my secret would spread through The Collective like the virus did mankind. Even though I so wanted to attempt some emotional connection, let the girl know everything would eventually fall in her favor, I had to remain in a position of cold, disconnected power. It was the only way to guarantee my success.

  “You need to calm down, Bethany.” I started to place my hand on her arm and she spat in the direction of my face.

  “Don’t fucking touch me. And don’t tell me to calm down. You have to let me out of here.”

  The subject’s pulse and heart rate were spiking. I was going to have to sedate her once again.

  “I hate to do this…” I turned away and grabbed a pre-filled hypo. Just enough of the drug to lull her to sleep and ease her rage.

  “No. Please don’t. God, please… you have to let me go.” Bethany’s voice grew weak. Tears streamed down her ruddy cheeks. Those tears were fat with loss and sorrow. I truly wanted to tell her how hard this was for me as well.

  “I can’t do that. You see, everything has been set in motion now, so there is no turning back. Trust me, Bethany, you are better off this way.” I pitched my voice into that motherly register, hoping to ease her into rest.

  The clear liquid easily traversed the hollow metal bridge between hypodermic and human. Within a matter of seconds Bethany began the familiar drifting away. She would be out for a few hours and no more.

  “Get your rest Bethany. We have a lot of work to do with you before you’re ready.” A soft pat on the arm and I was out the door, pulling it shut and locking from the outside. Sedated and locked in, Bethany Nitshimi was going nowhere.

  Chapter 3

  Boston University

  May 2013

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I have both the honor and privilege of introducing the single most authoritative voice in the field of biological evolution on the planet. Her work has shifted the very foundation of the subject and finally given the field of biology a confirmed rock star. In these circles she needs no introduction, but it thrills me to say her very name. Fellow researchers, biologists, chemists…I give you, Professor Danielle Joy Michaels.”

  Thunderous applause rang out inside the thousand-plus seat lecture hall as the graceful, powerful woman took the stage.

  “As I stand here tonight, I do so among colleagues and peers who deserve more than generalities and glad-handing. We are biologists. Our single goal is to understand how the world works at a cellular level. After over a century of study, we had only gleaned a fraction of the knowledge we needed to progress mankind to the levels we know our species is capable of reaching.. I am here to tell you that this has all changed. My partner, Dr. Lindsay Godwin, and I have uncovered the Holy Grail of cellular biology. What we have discovered has led us to a creation that will save the human race from certain extinction.

  “Imagine, if you will, a single cure for every known virus, disease, or ailment that has ever plagued mankind. A single cure. That is what we are on the brink of bringing to Man. Scientists, chemists, fellow-biologists… I reveal to you, our meta-cure that Dr. Godwin and I have dubbed ‘Awakening.’”

  With a click of a remote, a curtain separated to reveal a twenty-foot wide video screen which displayed a single, highly complex molecule the likes of which no one in the room had ever laid eyes upon. Faint sounds of incredulity could be heard throughout the audience. The synapse-firing of jealousy was almost palpable. But most of all, the room was filled with astonishment and awe. Greatness was standing at the dais of the lecture hall, and every breathing human in attendance knew it.

  “What you cannot see of this molecule is that it has the ability to intelligently morph into nearly any form necessary to combat infected or malicious cells within the body. Once the molecule is within detection range of a target cell, it awakens the morphogenetic encoding which determines what is needed for the molecule to neutralize its target.”

  Professor Michaels paused, and the hall erupted into a cacophony of applause. Students stood in their chairs to snap pictures with their smart phones, so they could load them to their favorite social networking sites and gain some nerd-cred among their peers. Whistles and catcalls echoed from the acoustic tiling suspended from the ceiling and molded into the walls.

  When the ovation died down, the professor continued.

  “Dr. Godwin could not be with me tonight, as he was pulled into an emergency meeting, but he wanted to impart one piece of wisdom to this fine class of current and future biologists. One of Dr. Godwin’s most famous quotes is: ‘To achieve greatness, one must be willing to set aside every rule they have ever learned. But when those rules are accompanied by one’s objective and personal ethics, disaster will soon follow.’ Thank you so much. Goodnight.”

  The woman elegantly walked off the stage and into the Green Room where her agent was anxiously awaiting.

  “Danielle, it’s urgent. We must get you to Munich right away.”

  Chapter 4

  New York City, Unknown location

  December 17, 2015

  “Professor Michaels, you’re due for a meeting with the board in ten minutes.” My assistant’s too
-perky voice chimed into the lab. With the world plagued by the walking dead, it’s beyond me how someone could be so full of life.

  I hated these board meetings. A bunch of puffed-up, sweaty suits sitting around a table trying to see whose prick was the biggest. The only thrill I got was seeing how they all shrank away knowing the only one in the meeting with a pair of balls was the woman. All these men cared about was how The Zero Day Collective was going to turn this disaster into profit. They’d already worked into their plan profiting from the cure, relocation, security, and food. You name it and the vultures had hovered over it. The big picture had seriously eluded each and every one of them. That picture? There is no profit to be made. Nearly ninety-percent of the population was either dead or the walking dead, and unless the zombie population had managed to somehow cash in their 401K plans, there will be no one with money enough to make these greedy pigs rich.

  The very idea was preposterous…getting rich off tragedy. The irony was that it had been going on for decades. Tragedy always seemed to bring out the worst in some people. Racketeers would swoop in and pick clean the remaining hopes and dreams from the weak offering them the promise of salvation in one form or another. Those promises were rarely, if ever, fulfilled, and the victims always left with less than enough to survive.

  The Cleansing proved to bring out the worst of the worst, and I was about to stand among them, about to catch them up on my progress. I wanted to empty my stomach of its contents to prevent me from doing so in front of the board. Those purveyors of pestilence must not ever see a singular moment of weakness from me, else they make my body and soul their next playground.

  But I do play along. How else could I manage to have such a lush facility offering me everything I needed to not only survive and thrive, but to push forward my own, hidden, agenda. My only obstacle was that the board wanted results, results which were counterpoint to my own needs. And being pure businessmen, these people had no idea that science often moved at a very different pace. The laws that govern commerce have zero bearing on my realm. Biology simply cannot be rushed. Evolution happens at its own rate. Mother Nature cannot be fucked with, or she will fuck back.

  Or so we all thought. Truth be told, under the right circumstances, the idea that ‘evolution would happen at its own rate’ was now actually quite false. How did I know that? I proved it false. With the Mengele Virus I managed to not only speed up evolution, I managed to force evolution’s own hand. Granted, that tampering seriously backfired on me… but for the briefest of moments, I did succeed.

  That serious backfire cost the world its soul. And now I survive with a guilt almost too heavy to bear. My only hope is to right the wrong. That is my hidden agenda… to reverse (or at least stop) the Mengele Virus from continuing its affront on mankind.

  *

  “Professor Michaels, so glad you could join us.” John Burgess, the head bastard, broke out into a sweat every time he addressed me. I wasn’t sure if it was the contents of my bra he feared or my intelligence. Either way, I would take him down a notch or two if he dared cross me.

  “Can we cut the bullshit? I am a very busy woman.” It gave me endless pleasure knowing I was the only one in the room that could get away with speaking so out of order, and survive.

  The men around the table just stared at me, slack-jawed, like a school of bottom-feeding carp.

  “Why yes, we can cut the bullshit…as you say.” Burgess’ forehead had become a steady stream of perspiration. He continued. “Funny you should want to cut so directly to the chase, since the chase is actually you. We need a performance report.”

  I laughed. It was the only natural reaction to such a ridiculous question. “Progress report? Are you serious?” I slammed my notebook on the table and glared. I was met with the glazed look of fear across the room, giving the green light for full steam ahead.

  “Here’s your progress report. I have a floor full of experiments that have mostly failed. Those failures, however, were just the opening act for the real show that has raised its curtain. She’s here, I have her, and she’s safe and still pregnant. That is all you need to know and, quite frankly, all you would be able to comprehend about my progress.”

  “Professor, you are out of line.” Burgess hefted his full weight up to stand. Sweat splashed all around him. Not a soul flinched when they became collateral damage.

  “And exactly what are you going to do, Mr. Burgess? Fire me? Kill me? Who would serve as my replacement? There was only one other person capable of doing what I do, and he’s dead. You get rid of me and you damn-well better figure out how to resurrect Dr. Godwin. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.”

  “Professor Michaels, are you aware your subject did manage to publish the formula for the cure, as well as the schematics for the device she called The Obliterator?” Burgess shot a snide tone my way. I wanted to slice a pound or two of his flesh off, fry it up, and feed it to him. Instead, I removed my hand from the door and turned to address the over-stuffed, stiff-necked bastard.

  “I read every word Bethany published. Have you bothered tracking down the server housing the files? Maybe you could, I don’t know, shut it down!” I was more than happy to speak to the blowhard as if he were nothing more than a child. “Colleague or no, I will not repeat this a second time; Regardless of what you think or believe, you work for me. If you wish to contradict that edict you may, but I wouldn’t advise doing so.”

  That shut them all up. I was not a woman to be trifled with or pushed around. Every man in this room feared me. That was how I always achieved results. I do not, and have never had friends. I do not need friendship, I only need success and results. And the only measure of success that matters today is that of survival. Power? Money? Those are currencies of a past where capitalism was the one true God. Now, however, God is strength, stamina, reflex – the ability to survive the oncoming war of Mankind 1.0 versus Mankind 2.0. God is the ability to force the evolutionary process down the throats of those below you, thus proving to those above you who wields the one true power.

  “You might assume, since we have what we were looking for, that everything would be simple math from here on out. That would be a tragic assumption to make. The world has split into the living and the undead. The living half are cowering in homes, underground, wherever they can hide. Man is no longer resting peacefully at the top of the food chain. This is not what Dr. Godwin and I had in mind when we developed Awakening. We set out to cure, not kill. But when Dr. Godwin created the Fission Generator he assumed the undead it created would have a finite life cycle. We are witnessing that assumption proved wrong on a daily basis.”

  I nearly lofted out to the board the darkest secret I had to reveal. Fortunately the words came exactly as they needed to, in order to keep the powers that be satisfied. But dark secrets or not, The Collective had one mission – to save the planet. Given the circumstances, the statement was laughable. That’s right, we wanted to save the world we destroyed… all for a nice profit.

  “Now, if you have no further questions for me, I have work to do.” Vitriol spilled from between my lips.

  I grabbed my notebook and walked out the door. The board members’ stares were burning holes in my backside. When the door slammed behind me, I was finally able to breathe.

  Chapter 5

  New York City Streets

  December 17, 2015

  The BMW took the turn wide, rear end fishtailing just enough to bowl over a small group of Moaners. The man behind the wheel let out a bellowing laugh before he hit the gas and straightened the wheel. As soon as the tires bit back into the pavement, a loan Screamer leaped into the path of the bulleting car.

  Crunch

  The front end of the Bimmer hit the zombie hard and fast enough to snap the beast’s spine and send it to an early, second death.

  Under normal circumstances, the level of excitement experienced behind the wheel would have been all kinds of hard-on for Sam Leamy. But ‘normal’ no longer existed.
What did exist was the disappearance of his team. He had sat in the car at the pick-up spot far longer than he normally would have. They should have made contact. Radio, phone… hell, he would have been okay with them tossing a zombie from the top of the UN Building. Instead, he was met with silence. He could only assume, after waiting forty-eight hours, that things did not go as planned. And so here he was, playing dodge car with zombies in the middle of the New York City streets.

  What Sam needed to do was find some place he could stop, gather his thoughts, and locate some old friends that would certainly fall in love with the idea of taking down what might be the only Man left to take down. But in a city with a population of around ten million people, nearly all of whom were now members of the living dead, finding a safe haven was going to be no easy feat.

  The car careened off a small gang of zombies who looked like they might have, at one time, been chorus members in some Disney-channeled Broadway show. Their limbs flailed about, tossing zombie jazz-hands to heaven. Sam punched the gas when a larger collection of tourist zombies gathered on the street – all Hawaiian shirts, neck-dangling cameras, black socks and sandals. All of a sudden killing zombies had become a game that brought some twisted bit of fun to an otherwise nihilist’s wet dream of a life. Sam needed all the speed he could get to fly through that many moaners.

  The front line of the undead tourists fell away with thumps and cracks. The car started to slow down a fraction as it neared the center of the group. Sam had slightly miscalculated the numbers and the BMW was being pushed to the limits of its German engineering. Eventually the car managed to pound its way through the crowd. When Sam’s line of sight was clear, he started to punch the gas yet again when something, or someone, caught his eye. A young man was running down the street, dodging moaners and other obstacles like Jackie Chan dodging poorly-dubbed bad guys in a kung-fu comedy. Sam nudged the car ahead to try to catch the runaway. The boy was fast and agile, but the car quickly managed to edge up alongside him.